


Quincunx

by pollybywater



Category: The X-Files
Genre: Alternate Universe, Crossover, Drama, M/M, Unresolved Sexual Tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2002-05-13
Updated: 2002-05-13
Packaged: 2018-11-20 18:07:44
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,731
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11340636
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pollybywater/pseuds/pollybywater
Summary: In an alternate universe, Mulder fell to his death from that tram.  What happened to the people he left behind?





	Quincunx

**Author's Note:**

> Note from alice ttlg, the archivist: this story was originally archived at [The Basement](http://fanlore.org/wiki/The_Basement), which moved to the AO3 to ensure the stories are always available and so that authors may have complete control of their own works. To preserve the archive, I began manually importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in June 2017. I e-mailed all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address on [The Basement's collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/thebasement/profile).

Quincunx

## Quincunx

#### by Polly Bywater

Title: Quincunx  
Author: Polly Bywater  
Feedback to:   
Author's Website:   
Date Archived: 05/13/02  
Category: Drama, UST, AU (Alternate Universe), Character Death, Crossover   Star Trek, The Next Generation  
Pairing: Mulder/Krycek   Scully/Krycek       
Rating: R  
Spoilers: Specifically Ascension and Requiem but assume possibly anything to season 8 and definitely all Krycek eps.  
Permission to Archive: Where ever, just ask me.  
Series or Sequel/Prequel: Yes, it is Part One of who knows how many yet  
Notes: This isn't *really* a crossover story, it's an AU X-Files story, but I needed to borrow Q to 'make it so', hehehe. Hey, why not? It makes as much sense as mysterious gates, lights in alleys, or magical clouds, and using omnipotent Q gave me the added bonus of being able to fix color-blindness and missing limbs. I'd also like to give a virtual nod to everybody who's written those cool AU stories that inspired me. I have tried not to plagiarize anybody, but like monkeys typing Shakespeare, it's bound to happen inadvertently if you work on it long enough. Oh, and about the title (well, yeah, Q puns *are* irresistible, and how many words are there that start with Q and end with X?) but 'quincunx' (kwin'kungsk) is a Latin word for an arrangement of five objects in a square, one at each corner and one in the center. So it fit.  
Warnings: Part 1 contains mostly M/M UST and a hinted M/F interaction but it's still not recommended for minors or fundamentalists. There are descriptions of several characters' deaths, but remember it's an AU, hold your stones.   
Disclaimer: Chris Carter and 1013 Productions own the majority of the characters I've borrowed for this story. Q is omnipotent, much like Paramount, but I don't think anybody owns him except maybe Jean-Luc. I make no money off this, it's a true labor of love.  
Summary: In an alternate universe, Mulder fell to his death from that tram. What happened to the people he left behind?

* * *

Q was bored, which was never a good thing for the rest of the universe. He couldn't go visit Jean-Luc. The starship captain had made Q promise to leave him alone for a linear week, at least. Pah, linear time! Q was half tempted to snap his fingers and take the present a week into the future. Jean-Luc would never know... but somehow, he'd find out. Q just knew it. 

So here he was, reduced to loitering about the outside of the Enterprise E, obeying the letter of the law, if not the spirit. Twiddling his omnipotent thumbs, no less. 

What to do, what to do. 

Oh well, if there was no amusement to be had in the present, perhaps he could divert himself by meddling in humanity's past. No, that wouldn't do either. If Jean-Luc found out he'd been monkeying around with the timeline, he'd really land hip-deep in the merde. 

Ah, but wait! What if he fiddled with the past of an alternate universe? There was an answer! Jean-Luc couldn't possibly complain, particularly if Q could find some way to justify his actions as an historical experiment. 

Hmm. Now, to what point in time should he devote his attentions? The Stone Age? Nooo, humans were scarcely articulate enough to suit him now, let alone then. Imperial Rome? He'd been told he quite resembled an emperor, one of the mad ones. Nero, or Caligula, perhaps. Still, the clothing was so boring! Elizabethan England? The attire of that era was quite magnificent, and would suit him sooo well, and there was all that lovely court intrigue... but no. No challenge. What he needed was to find an area at which human histories diverged. How many could there be? 

Half a linear hour and an incipient headache later, Q was forced to acknowledge that there were a great many points of divergence, indeed. Why, the sheer numbers alone could make even a Q's head spin! He crossed his legs and leaned back against the pylon supporting the starboard warp nacelle, giving his project a little more thought. Perhaps he should address an area in which Jean-Luc had already expressed some interest. It might cut down on the arguments later. 

Let's see. He'd recently eavesdropped on a conversation between Jean-Luc and Beardboy in which the good captain had attempted to explain to his first officer the events leading up to the Eugenics Wars. Apparently Starfleet Intelligence- Ha! -had recently declassified some documents that revealed there were human cloning experiments as early as the last half of the twentieth century. According to Jean-Luc, these experiments segued directly into the genetic manipulations that had resulted in Khan Singh and the other so-called supermen. 

Q lent his omniscience to reviewing the events on Earth that surrounded the beginnings of cloning, and was unpleasantly surprised to learn a few facts that hadn't made it into any reports. 

Well, well, well. Perhaps Jean-Luc wouldn't be so very cross with him after all, for it seemed the situation demanded some not-so-divine intervention. 

Q rubbed his hands together and chortled. 

Time to teach some little humans a few valuable lessons about themselves. 

+++++++++ 

Mulder opened his eyes and tried to figure out where the hell he was. Something was over his face-- a newspaper? He shoved it off and sat up, shocked to find himself lying on a park bench in the plaza near the J. Edgar Hoover building. The sky was a pure bright blue, the air warm, and he wasn't hungry or thirsty or in any discomfort. What few passersby he saw basically ignored him, and he shook his head in confusion and started taking inventory. 

"Shit!" He was dressed in an immaculate gray Armani suit, fine black linen shirt, a subtly patterned black and gray silk tie, and a pair of _really_ nice black Paciotti shoes, none of which were his to the best of his recollection. He put his hands to his face and discovered he was freshly shaven; checked his pockets and found his wallet and I.D. He was even wearing his holsters, waist and ankle, and was armed as usual. 

The last thing he remembered was being in Oregon with Skinner, looking for an alien ship... then a bright light, and... nothing. How the hell had he ended up back here in D.C.? Lost time. Fascinating. Had he been abducted? If so, the aliens were a pretty considerate bunch, to return him home and dress him so nicely, to boot. 

Mulder checked his watch. One-fifteen, Friday, May twenty-sixth. Almost a week from the last day he remembered, provided it was the same year. Unfortunately, there wasn't a year display on his watch. He stood up, noting once again that he felt absolutely fine, and decided his best course of action would be to go on into the office and find Scully. Maybe she'd have some answers for him. 

He had to show his I.D. twice to get in, and he didn't recognize any of the security guards, which concerned him a little. He noticed a couple of vaguely familiar people in the corridors, but no one he knew at all, which concerned him a bit more. Eschewing the elevator in favor of the single flight of stairs to the basement, he was even more uneasy when he discovered there'd been some major changes in the architecture down below. Doors were either missing or moved from where he remembered them, and in place of his previous office access, there was a large plate glass panel with matching door that opened onto a rather nice reception area, complete to desk, secretary, and three inner portals. Shit, there were even plants! There was no way it could have been accomplished in less than a week. 

"What the fuck? Just how much time _have_ I lost?" 

He took a deep breath and walked in, and the secretary -another unfamiliar face- looked up and greeted him with a polite smile. 

"May I help you, Sir?" 

"I'm looking for Agent Scully." 

"Agent Scully is out of the office but we're expecting her back momentarily, if you'd care to wait?" She motioned casually to a nearby sofa and a shaken Mulder sat down with a sigh. No sooner had his knees stopped trembling than one of the inner doors opened up and a man appeared. An all-too-familiar man, who had his attention on the secretary and not Mulder. 

"Denise, do you know if that report--" 

"Krycek! You son of a bitch! What the hell are _you_ doing here?" Mulder barreled over and grabbed Krycek, shoving him up against the wall. Mulder pinned the rat-bastard there with one forearm to the throat, while his other hand automatically drew his pistol and planted it between Krycek's ribs. He noticed absently that Krycek had gone paste-pale and was almost swooning, but like always, how Krycek _looked_ was secondary to the way that long body _felt_ pressed against Mulder. Hard. Hot. Unbearably... tempting. _Fuck_! 

"Where's Scully, asshole? What have you done to her?" Mulder demanded furiously while the secretary squeaked and reached for the phone. Fine, let her call for help... and that was the moment Scully charged into the office, gun in hand. 

"Drop your weapon!" She yelled, and Mulder turned his head to stare at her, still keeping his gun firmly dug into Krycek's side. 

"Why? You going to shoot me again?" He asked sarcastically, and watched Scully's face turn paper white. 

"Mulder?" Her voice quavered uncertainly, and Dana Katherine Scully dropped her gun and fainted dead away. 

"Scully!" 

"Dana!" 

Hard to tell who yelled first, Mulder or Krycek, but Mulder found himself pushed abruptly away, gun knocked loose and arms twisted behind his back in an excruciatingly painful series of quick moves. Already shocked, he was dumbfounded when Krycek slapped a pair of handcuffs on him, wrestled him to the floor and efficiently and thoroughly frisked him, relieving him of his ankle weapon and depositing both guns on the secretary's desk. 

"Get Skinner, tell him we've got a situation C down here, and don't call anybody else," Krycek ordered quickly, and muttered something under his breath that sounded like 'goddamn clones' as he went to kneel at Scully's side. 

"Leave her alone, motherfucker!" Mulder yelled helplessly from his prone position on the floor as the secretary held his own gun on him in one hand and dialed the phone with the other. 

"Kim, this is Denise. We need the director down here now, we have a situation C," Mulder half-heard the secretary make the call, but his attention was focused on Krycek and Scully. He watched, profoundly astonished, as Krycek gently lifted Scully into his arms- _arms_? -and carried her over to the sofa, kicking her gun well out of Mulder's reach as he passed it. 

"Director Skinner is on his way, Agent Krycek," the secretary reported, her gun hand never wavering. Mulder spared her a quick glance, and was startled again to see the contemptuous glare she directed his way. 

"Good. Keep your eyes on it, and when the director gets here, I want you to retrieve Agent Scully's gun and lock up all the weapons. Then I want you to go home, Denise, and forget all about this. You never saw it, it never happened," Krycek instructed roughly, all while propping Scully's small feet up, loosening her collar, and stroking her face carefully between his hands. _Hands_? 

"Yes, Sir," the secretary answered obediently, an effort Mulder interrupted with an aggrieved "What the hell is going on here? Is Scully all right?" Krycek ignored him completely, much to Mulder's dismay. 

"Dana. Dana, honey, wake up. Come on," Krycek urged, and with his eyes wide at this latest shock- _Dana? HONEY_? -Mulder for once kept his mouth shut and waited. 

Scully moaned and opened her eyes slowly, Krycek's hands on her face keeping her focused on him. 

"Alex? What happened? Oh, my God! Mulder!" 

_Alex_? Mulder shook his head slightly and wondered if this could possibly get any weirder. 

"Careful, Dana. Don't move too fast," Krycek said, helping her sit. She stared at Mulder with a classic 'deer in the headlights' expression that made his heart hurt, still far too pale and leaning on Krycek far too much for his peace of mind. 

"Alex? I thought they were all gone," Scully said in a tiny voice, and as Krycek rubbed one hand over his face, Mulder suddenly realized he appeared to be as distraught as she did. 

"So did I, honey. I thought we got them all," he said, that voice the same husky rasp Mulder remembered from years of infuriating confrontations... but it was beginning to dawn on Mulder that Alex Krycek didn't exactly _look_ the same. 

Far from being either the green agent in ill-fitting suits or the thug in denim and black leather, this incarnation of Alex Krycek was wearing a tan-colored Canali suit that fit him perfectly, and there was silver threading through the sable hair at his temples. He looked -not older, exactly- but mature. Comfortable with himself in a way Mulder had never before seen. Even Scully looked different, in a pale blue pantsuit with her hair slightly mussed and loose to her shoulders. Softer, less rigid somehow. He was living a freaking X-File, Mulder thought impatiently, unable to take another second of watching the two of them sitting beside each other, holding each other up. 

"Just how fucking long have I been gone, anyway?" He demanded, and was bitch-slapped with this strange reality all over again when a familiar deep baritone answered him from the door. 

"Special Agent Fox Mulder was killed in the line of duty six and a half years ago, clone, so why don't you tell us who the hell sent you here?" 

The immense silence that fell following this announcement was unbroken while the secretary stood up and collected Scully's weapon, placing it with Mulder's guns inside a weapons cabinet and casually securing the lock. She picked up her purse and left with nods to Krycek, Scully, and Skinner, and when the door closed behind her Skinner soundlessly shot the bolt and closed slatted blinds over the glass. 

Mulder twisted his head around enough to watch Skinner, trying to wrap his mind around what he'd just been told. Skinner had his gun out, covering Mulder as he moved to Krycek and Scully's side of the room. 

"Agent Scully, are you all right?" Skinner asked in an aside, never taking his eyes off Mulder. 

"Yes, Sir, I'm fine," Scully reported, clearly trying to convince _somebody_ she was back to her usual self. 

"She fainted," Alex informed Skinner in a low voice, and Mulder wished he could rub his eyes when he saw Scully punch Krycek's upper arm. His _left_ upper arm. 

"Thanks a lot, Krycek," Scully said disgustedly, and Skinner, of all people, chuckled. 

"Don't worry, Agent, I won't hold it against you. You're still the toughest agent in the building. I understand your shock, actually," Skinner added seriously. "The resemblance is incredible." 

"A little better dressed than the real Mulder would have been, though. Whoever prepared it picked out a nice tie," Krycek noted in an oddly affectionate tone. 

Mulder snapped. 

"Will you stop talking about me like I'm not here? I am _not_ an _it_ , damn it! I'm not a clone! This situation-- this is wrong! All of it! You-- he-- God, Scully, what's wrong with _you_? Alex Krycek betrayed us! He's a traitor! He was working for the Consortium all along! He was responsible for your abduction from Skyland Mountain- you were missing for months! You almost died! He killed my father and was involved in your sister's murder!" Mulder had to stop yelling to catch his breath, and was kept silent by the pure fury that crossed Skinner's face. 

Krycek, on the other hand, shuddered and went even paler. 

"Mulder," Scully began, then looked at Skinner and shrugged her shoulders. "I don't know what else to call it." 

Skinner shook his head but said nothing, and Scully continued. 

"Mulder, that didn't happen the way you describe--" 

"One thing did," Krycek interrupted her, his voice strained and hoarse with what sounded like tears, to Mulder's surprise. "It's true, I was working for the Consortium when Duane Barry kidnapped Scully and took her to Skyland Mountain." 

Krycek's voice failed him completely and he buried his head in his hands. 

"I can't. I can't do this," he said in an agonized whisper. 

"Alex, it's okay," Scully murmured softly, patting his upper back while Mulder stared incredulously. "Sir?" 

Scully looked up at Skinner, who holstered his gun, took off his wirerims and rubbed them with a handkerchief, obviously gathering his thoughts. He replaced his glasses and grimaced. 

"I don't see why we owe a clone any explanations, but I'll say this much. Duane Barry kidnapped Agent Scully and took her to Skyland Mountain. Under orders from C.G.B. Spender, Agent Krycek was supposed to deliver Agent Mulder to the top of Skyland Mountain as well, where Agent Mulder was to be handed over to alien collaborators in league with the Consortium. Agent Krycek instead attempted to delay Agent Mulder in an attempt to save his life. When Agent Mulder fell to his death from a tram on the way up the mountain, Agent Krycek went to the top of Skyland Mountain himself, apprehended Duane Barry, and rescued Agent Scully. Agent Krycek then made full disclosure of his involvement with the Consortium to Agent Scully and myself. He spent the next three years undercover, assisting us in bringing down the Consortium and circumventing the alien invasion. Bill Mulder died four years ago of cirrhosis of the liver. Melissa Scully Skinner was fine when I left her in our bed this morning. C.G.B. Spender committed suicide a year and a half ago while awaiting trial in federal court for treason and conspiracy to commit murder, by the way. Agent Krycek continues to serve his country with honor and distinction, and I'm proud to say he's one of my finest agents as well as a personal friend." 

Krycek raised his head and met Skinner's concerned glance. Krycek's face was wet. Mulder rolled over and sat up, his head spinning. All of this was so fucking unbelievable. Skinner, married to Scully's _sister_ and calmly commenting about aliens as if he'd believed all along? Krycek in _tears_ , being _praised_ by _Skinner_? He, Mulder, supposedly _dead_... and Krycek supposedly having attempted to _save_ _his_ life then saving Scully's? 

"But that's not how it happened," Mulder told them weakly, feeling nearly too stunned to speak. " _I_ *wasn't* killed. I made it to the top and found Duane Barry, but I was too late to rescue Scully. She was abducted, presumably by aliens. Krycek murdered Barry--" 

"Duane Barry is in a medical unit at the penitentiary in Fort Leavenworth, Kansas. I receive monthly reports on his condition. I was never abducted," Scully supplied, inspecting Mulder gravely as she took a deep breath, then cleared her throat. "Skinner and I were there, in the... recovery team that retrieved... Mulder's... body. There was no possible mistake in the... identification of the remains." 

Another long silence then. 

"Who would supply a clone with such obviously false memories?" Krycek wondered, wiping his face and taking on an expression Mulder had seen on him many times, raw, frustrated anger. 

"I keep telling you I'm not a fucking clone, God damn it! Look, Scully, aren't there tests you can do? Check for genetic degradation? I tell you, I _am_ Fox Mulder!" 

"But obviously, not _our_ Fox Mulder," Krycek pointed out, looking Mulder full in the face for the first time since Mulder had attacked him. Mulder found he could hardly bear that vivid green gaze, deep with a million secrets he wanted to learn. So like his own Alex Krycek's eyes. _His own_ Alex Krycek? Where was _that_ coming from? Wait. There was a bigger picture here. If he was in an-- 

"Alternate universe?" Mulder asked, seizing on the possibility with relief. It would account for a lot. At some fearful level, he'd been starting to wonder if maybe he _was_ a clone. 

He held Krycek's eyes, refusing to allow himself the luxury of turning away, pinned by that clinging stare until Krycek nodded and looked at Scully. 

"We need to do the tests to be sure, but it's no more unbelievable than the notion that he's a poorly programmed clone. We _were_ very thorough when we wiped out the clone labs." Krycek turned back towards Mulder. "How did you get here?" 

"I woke up--" Mulder checked his watch. "-About an hour and a half ago, on a park bench in the plaza. So I got up and came to the office to find Scully. I have to say I like the new floor plan. Fancy." 

He saw three identical winces cross their faces, then Scully gifted him with a faint smile, the first one he had seen on her. It was... nice. 

"We talked the Director into authorizing capital improvements down here," she said, looking at Skinner. Mulder thought there was more to it, but he appreciated that she was trying to lighten things up a bit. 

"You, Sir? You're the Director?" Mulder asked Skinner. "In my-- Where I'm-- You're still an Assistant Director." 

Skinner heaved a sigh and ignored both the question and the information. 

"What's the last thing you remember before today?" He asked Mulder, voice brusque. 

"Going to Oregon, with you, on a tip _he_ provided," Mulder pointed his chin at Krycek, "to find an alien ship that crashed there. The date was May twenty-first, 2000. What year is this?" 

"It's still 2000. Did you find the ship?" Krycek asked with evident curiosity. 

"I don't know. I remember hearing Skinner call my name. I remember seeing a bright light. The next thing I remember is waking up outside." 

Skinner rubbed one hand over the back of his head, such a familiar gesture that Mulder felt his eyes burn. 

"The cuffs stay on until we find out whether he's human or not, at least," Skinner finally ordered. "Is Pendrell in the lab, Scully?" 

"Yes, Sir. He's working on the Mayfield samples. Will you accompany us to the lab?" Scully asked, and Mulder wondered if he was imagining the plea in her voice. Were they afraid of him? 

Apparently, Skinner wondered the same thing. He gave Scully and Krycek a sideways glance. 

"To be honest, Sir, I don't think either Alex or I can remain reliably objective when it comes to--" She broke her words off and waved in Mulder's direction. "And the fewer people involved in this, the better." 

"I agree, and I appreciate your candor, Agent," Skinner remarked rather grimly. He went to the desk and picked up the phone, keeping his eyes on Mulder. 

"This is Director Skinner. Let me speak to Pendrell... Agent Pendrell, this is Director Skinner. We have a potential situation C in the X-Files office. We're going to bring the subject to the lab for testing. I want you to clear the lab of all personnel besides yourself and pull all the records you have on Fox Mulder and the Mulder clones... yes, you heard me. I don't have to remind you this goes no further, do I, Agent? Thank you. We'll be there in ten minutes." Skinner dialed another set of numbers. "Kim, Skinner here. Clear my schedule for the rest of the afternoon, please... I know. It can't be helped. Tell the senator we'll have to reschedule... he did? No, six is fine, we should know something by then... no, I'll call her myself... yeah, they're fine. Thank you, Kim." 

"You have a protocol set up for handling suspected clones?" Mulder asked, intrigued. "You've seen clones of _me_ before?" 

"This wouldn't be the first time a ringer was sent in," Krycek answered tersely as he stood, no longer so deadly pale. "We haven't seen a functional Mulder clone before today, though." 

"You haven't seen one today," Mulder had to point out, trying not to dwell on the implications behind the word 'functional'. Did Krycek mean they'd seen non-functional clones of him? 

"Get up," Skinner ordered him, gun once again in hand. Mulder managed to get to his feet fairly gracefully, despite being cuffed. 

Krycek helped Scully stand _and she let him_ before he moved to the weapons cabinet, where he placed himself between it and Mulder so Mulder couldn't see him key in the combination code. When it was open, he retrieved Scully's gun and silently handed it to her. She holstered it, exchanging an unreadable stare with Krycek. Mulder was taken aback by the easy familiarity between them. They seemed to have the same intuitive bond that he shared with _his_ Scully, mixed with a casual physicality that truly startled him. They touched each other a _lot_ , much more so than he and Scully did. He was further startled at how _right_ they looked together, which reminded him of those long-ago days when Alex Krycek had been his partner in the X-Files. He'd grown accustomed to Krycek with distressing speed, and had wished more than once that Krycek and Scully could get along as well... then it had all blown up in his face. Krycek gone. Scully gone. Nothing left, no _one_ left... but that wasn't _this_ Krycek or _this_ Scully. He had to keep reminding himself of that fact. 

"I'd like to see your files on the Consortium," Mulder said without really thinking about it, and won himself three suspicious glares before Krycek snorted. 

"He certainly _sounds_ like an authentic Mulder. Nobody else, not even a clone, could have that much chutzpah." 

Scully merely smiled that little smile again, and Skinner shook his head. 

"Come on, let's go." 

Mulder rolled his shoulders in an effort to lessen the strain from the cuffs, then at Skinner's unspoken directive, preceded the group out of the office after Krycek unlocked the door. Instead of taking the elevator, they took the stairs, and Mulder wondered why but he didn't ask. It was several flights up to the lab, with Mulder in the lead and under Skinner's gun the whole time. 

When they got to the lab floor, Krycek reached around him to open the fire door and stepped back quickly, unmistakable marks of strain around his mouth and eyes. Mulder caught his scent, warm and faintly spicy, and asked himself if his own face showed as much distress. He hadn't quite dealt with all the ramifications of being around a Krycek he didn't have to hate... not that he was doubt-free about this one. There was too much they weren't telling him, but they probably never would unless they could satisfy themselves that he wasn't a clone. 

It was a silent group that walked into the lab, met by an equally speechless Pendrell, who after an initial inspection of Mulder refused to meet his eyes again. Mulder decided not to mention that in _his_ reality, Pendrell was dead. Seeing Pendrell alive, as much as all the other unbelievable things he'd seen and heard today, had gone even further to convince Mulder that he _was_ in an alternate universe. 

Under Skinner's watchful stare, Krycek finally unlocked one side of the cuffs and secured Mulder to a chair after collecting his fingerprints. Scully drew what seemed like a hundred tubes of his blood, plating some and handing other samples to Pendrell, who placed specimens in various and sundry pieces of arcane equipment. She then took scrapings of the insides of Mulder's cheeks, during which Skinner held the gun to the back of his head in a clear warning. 

When they'd finished there, Pendrell ran some type of hand-held scanner over Mulder's entire body, shaking his head at Skinner's inquiring eyebrow. Pendrell handed Scully a thick file, and they spent a quiet hour at a table across the room comparing results and mumbling technicalese at each other while Krycek got Mulder bottled tea from a vending machine. Mulder nodded his thanks and tried to work on his patience, well aware of how important this was... and he tried hard not to speculate on what these people must have gone through to make them so wary, or what would happen if his tests were not conclusive. 

Eventually, Scully came back over, looking tired but infinitely more cheerful than earlier. Mulder took heart from the fact that she almost smiled. 

"This man is definitely human. Preliminary results indicate he is not a clone. He has no implants and mass spectrometer analysis of his blood doesn't show any evidence of the chemical elements that we have on file as being associated with the use of age accelerators. There is no evidence of genetic drift, although the DNA analyses won't be completed for another 24 to 48 hours. The only anomaly we can find is in his antibodies to the black oil. He _is_ immune, but not the same way we are. If I had to guess, I'd say he was vaccinated with an earlier, unrefined version of the Tunguska vaccine. I can't say with absolute certainty until all the test results are back, but he does appear to be... Fox Mulder." 

Scully's voice broke over his name, and Mulder watched helplessly as she leaned into Krycek, who took her in his arms, visibly sheltering her. Krycek's face was a study in grief, and Mulder once again marveled at the differences between this Krycek and his own, who masked his emotions so efficiently. 

Skinner kept his gaze steadily on Mulder, giving Krycek and Scully a moment, then asked the question of the day. 

"What do we do with him now?" 

"We need him somewhere we can keep an eye on him until the DNA tests are complete," Krycek replied, unobtrusively handing Scully a tissue from a box on a nearby desk. "At the same time, we have no legal grounds for taking him into custody." 

"Alex, he assaulted a federal agent. We _do_ have grounds to hold him, but I'm not sure that's wise. There are a lot of people around who remember Mulder. They'll assume he's a clone no matter what we say. His life could be in danger here." Scully remarked. 

"As long as there's still a possibility he _is_ a clone we _should_ hold him," Skinner pointed out flatly. 

" _He_ is sitting right here, or had you forgotten?" Mulder said, exasperated. "Look, I don't know how I got here, but I really don't have anywhere else to go. I'd rather not go into a holding cell, and despite my earlier behavior, I'm not generally a violent person." He wasn't about to explain that the one exception to that rule was standing, in effigy at least, three feet away from him. There had to be another option besides jail. 

"Can't I just go home with one of you until we can figure this thing out? Scully?" 

"Unacceptable," Skinner pronounced and Krycek lifted his chin, another gesture Mulder found achingly familiar. 

"That's not a bad idea, really. It would give us a chance to find out some of the differences between his universe and ours." Krycek tried a smile. "I have a few questions, and you _know_ he does." 

"Alex, are you sure you've thought this through?" Skinner asked, his tone serious and low. "Dana? I'm speaking as your brother-in-law now, not your director." 

"Walter, maybe... maybe it will help, in the long run. We'll take him home with us," Scully decided after a quick glance at Krycek. 

_US_? 

"What do you mean, 'us'?" Mulder asked as the bottom dropped out of his world for the hundredth time today. Scully looked at him. 

"Alex and I are married, Mulder." 

++++++++++++ 

Skinner walked them out to the parking garage- via the stairs again, Mulder noted distantly -where the Director sent Scully and Krycek on ahead to get their car, keeping Mulder behind for a private word. 

"You said you had a Skinner where ever the hell it is you're from, so I hope you're paying attention, boy, because I'm only going to tell you this once. If you do anything, _anything_ at all to hurt either one of those people, I will track you down and be the last face you ever see. Do you understand me?" 

"Yes, Sir," Mulder replied with absolutely no sarcasm. Whichever universe you happened to be in, Walter Skinner in full-blown defense mode was not someone to be taken lightly, and Mulder felt appropriately and sincerely intimidated. "I promise you, they're in no danger from me." 

"Make sure it stays that way," Skinner growled, and took the handcuffs off him. Mulder was surprised. He'd been half-expecting them to stay on for the duration. Krycek and Scully pulled up then in a black late-model Crown Vic, and Mulder wondered if it was a personal car or bureau-issue. Krycek was driving, and Mulder was struck with a powerful urge to order him to hand over the keys. He managed to restrain himself, opening the right rear passenger door and sliding in behind Scully. 

Skinner leaned into Krycek's window. 

"Alex, call if you need me. I'll be home by eight." 

"Sure, Walt. Don't worry, we'll be fine." 

"Dana." 

"Bye, Walter. Tell Missy to call me in the morning." 

Still shaken by the surreal notion of Krycek and Skinner being brothers-in-law, Mulder remained silent while Krycek drove them west past Arlington to a suburb called Seven Corners. They pulled up into the driveway of a well-maintained single story older home. It had a detached garage that Krycek didn't bother to park in. The house sat on a corner lot, in a neighborhood apparently full of big oak trees and yelling kids. 

"This is it?" Mulder asked as he opened his car door, finally driven to a question. It wasn't what he would have expected, for some reason. It seemed so... normal. Must be Scully's influence, he thought with a faint sneer. 

"Yeah, this is our home," Krycek answered, getting out and coming around to open Scully's door. He evidently caught Mulder's goggling stare and grinned. "Hey, on the Bureau's time, she opens her own doors. On my time, I get to do it." 

Scully actually giggled, and Mulder didn't know what flattened him the most, the expression on Krycek's face, or that sound coming from Scully. Krycek held out his hand to her and she accepted it gracefully, standing like she was accustomed to being treated like royalty. Maybe she was. 

"How long have you been married?" Mulder had to ask. 

"Just over a year. March seventeenth," Krycek said, looking surprised when Mulder snickered. 

"You got married on Saint Patrick's Day?" He asked Scully, who gave him a pained smile over her shoulder as she moved towards the house. 

"Don't ask," she said, waiting for Krycek to unlock the door. The instant the key hit the lock Mulder could hear what sounded like claws scrabbling on a hardwood floor, then the barking started. At least two dogs, he realized. 

Krycek opened the door and they went inside, Krycek turning to quickly punch in some buttons on a security panel. Sure enough, hardwood floors and dogs. He barely got a chance to look around before his attention was taken up with watching Krycek and Scully interact with their pets; a large, _very large_ Rottie and-- 

"Queegqueeg!" Mulder said, astonished to see the familiar furball. Scully and Krycek regarded him with shock. 

"Your Scully too?" Krycek asked, shaking his head. "Now, *that's* weird," he said, and Mulder couldn't hold back his semi-hysterical laughter any longer. 

"It's not... the weirdest... fucking thing I've... heard today," he managed to gasp out, and soon Scully and Krycek were laughing with him. At least until Krycek got a stricken look on his face and abruptly stopped. He touched Scully on the arm, his expression oddly blank. 

"I'm going to take the dogs out, honey. Give me some time, okay?" Without a word to Mulder he turned and walked away, going towards the back of the house. The dogs sniffed at Mulder briefly then trailed after Krycek like small planets following their sun, and in a moment Mulder heard a door slam. 

"Was it something I said?" He asked Scully seriously. 

"I think he just remembered you're not _our_ Mulder," Scully said with a sad little smile. "Come on." 

Shedding purse and jacket along the way, she took him through the living room, which was simply and comfortably furnished, and on into the kitchen where she motioned him towards a chair at the table. Mulder inspected the kitchen with interest, thinking it looked like something out of House Beautiful. Shining copper pots hung from a wooden rack mounted on one wall, reflecting on appliances of brushed stainless steel. The walls were a clean cream and the countertops polished black marble, a color scheme picked up by the tiled floor. 

"This is really nice, Scully." 

"Thanks. Alex and I did a lot of the work ourselves. When he bought the house it still had the original kitchen, and since we both like to cook this was the first room we remodeled. You want some coffee? It's decaf. That's all we buy. We drink enough of the high-octane stuff at work." 

She's nervous, Mulder realized regretfully before the mental picture of Krycek cooking could sidetrack him. 

"I'm sorry," he blurted out before he could think better of it. "I didn't give a lot of thought to how difficult this must be for you, having me here... I mean, I assume you and your Mulder must have been close." 

"We were good friends," Scully confirmed as she measured out grounds into a paper filter and filled the carafe at the sink. "You and your Scully?" 

" _Best_ friends," Mulder said softly. "She's saved my life a dozen times over. _Our_ war with the Consortium isn't over. It hasn't been easy for her. She's sacrificed a lot to stand with me." 

"It hasn't been easy for anybody," Scully remarked a bit grimly, moving to the window and opening the curtain to look out into the back yard. From where he sat, Mulder could see Krycek prowling along the fenceline, occasionally bending over a flowerbed and wrenching up a weed. "We've all suffered here, but Alex has done his best to protect me when he could." 

"He's so different from--" 

" _Your_ Krycek? Are you sure you know your Krycek well enough to say that?" 

Mulder rolled his eyes. 

"Well, *you're* no different, Scully. You still have a gift for asking the hard questions." No way was he going to get into a discussion about _his_ Alex Krycek, not with a woman so obviously in love with _hers_. 

She granted him another little Scullysmile and opened the refrigerator, inspecting the contents. 

"Are you hungry? I was thinking about calling the Chinese place for delivery. I don't really feel like cooking, and I doubt Alex does either," she admitted with a sigh, closing the door and retrieving three coffee cups from a cabinet. 

"Chinese sounds fine, thanks." Mulder chewed on his lip while Scully poured coffee and handed him a cup. She pointed at creamer and sugar on the table if he wanted it, grabbed up a cordless phone then sat down beside him, still keeping half an eye on Krycek through the window. 

Mulder waited while she placed the order- interestingly enough, she knew his favorites, -and managed not to jump when Krycek came back inside through the adjacent mudroom. The younger man went to the sink and washed his hands before he spoke. Mulder noticed Krycek watched Scully and avoided looking his way. 

"Dinner?" Krycek asked as she hung up the phone. 

"Chinese," Scully replied. 

"Good idea. I'm gonna go change, shoulda done it sooner." He wryly indicated a grass stain on one knee. "Mister Lee is going to kill me." 

"It's not the worst thing he's had to try to get out of your suits," Scully pronounced with mock exasperation, and Krycek grinned at her as they exchanged another one of those speechless communicating glances. 

"Uh, speaking of changing... have you got some clothes I can borrow? Sweats or something?" Mulder inquired in a casual tone. "I didn't exactly get the opportunity to pack." 

"Yeah, sure," Krycek said, his gaze skittering over Mulder. "Come with me and I'll show you where you're going to sleep." He poured himself a cup of coffee and took it with him, leading Mulder back through the living room and down a hall. 

Krycek didn't walk, he stalked, and Mulder appreciated the sight of those long legs moving under Italian silk. Jesus fuck, what the hell's the _matter_ with you, he asked himself impatiently. This is _Krycek_ , for God's sake, and to make it worse, in this reality, he's married to your _best friend_ , so get a grip! 

His little self-sermon didn't do a lot of good, however, when Krycek threw open a door and waved him inside a bedroom. It was an evocative mental image that threatened to induce a distinctive physical response, and Mulder was grateful for his long suit jacket. 

"This is the guest room. Unfortunately, the adjoining bathroom is all torn up." Krycek pointed to a closed door, beneath which the floor was spotted with drywall dust and footprints. "Our latest 'project'. By the time we're done we will have remodeled the whole house," Krycek continued with a rueful grin that failed to reach his eyes. "There's another bathroom across the hall if you want a shower. Our room is at the end of the hall. Wait here and I'll get you something to wear." 

He slid past Mulder and out the door with the same silent grace Mulder always associated with the Krycek in his own universe. Mulder took a deep breath and sat down on the edge of the queen-sized bed, looking around curiously. Like the rest of the house, it was airy and uncluttered; pale walls and clean lines and natural wood trim. The furnishings reflected Scully's taste very well, in fact, he thought the bed was probably identical to the one _his_ Scully kept in her apartment. So many things were the same, which made the differences even more marked. 

He wondered why _this_ Krycek was so uneasy around him. Was it merely because he'd attacked the man, or was there something more? It might be a good idea to apologize for that, come to think of it... although the concept of apologizing to Krycek, _any_ Krycek, was a foreign one. Then again, a Krycek who gardened, cooked, and remodeled his own home was a pretty foreign concept as well. Would _his_ Krycek have been more like this one if things had been different? Would _his_ Krycek have made a home like this with _him_ in another reality? and oh, God, where was _that_ coming from? Alex Krycek was the biggest rat-bastard he'd ever known, and Mulder hated his guts. Didn't he? 

These discomforting ruminations were cut short when Krycek reappeared with an armload of clothes that were unceremoniously dumped on the end of the bed. Jeans, sweats, boxers, tee shirts, even a pair of running shoes. 

"This was..." Krycek's voice roughened, and he had to pause to clear his throat. "This stuff was Mulder's... _our_ Mulder's. Guess it should fit, huh?" He turned away and left, quick to close the door behind him, but he wasn't fast enough to prevent Mulder from seeing the bright glaze over his eyes. 

Mind worrying over this latest revelation- Why would they hang onto clothes belonging to a man six-and-a-half years dead? -Mulder pawed desultorily through the clothes, picking out a pair of jeans and a plain blue tee and changing automatically. He hung up his suit in the closet and parked his dress shoes, deciding to remain barefoot as he stripped off his socks. He rather liked feeling the smooth cool hardwood floor under his soles. 

After visiting the bathroom, Mulder sucked up his courage and went back to the kitchen. His unshod footsteps were soundless, and he walked in on Krycek and Scully standing at the window holding each other, their backs towards him. Mulder froze, not wanting to interrupt, then found himself inadvertently eavesdropping on their murmured conversation. 

"It's just so hard, seeing him, Dana. I'm sorry. It's not fair to you." 

"Alex, sweetheart, it's okay. I understand. Please, don't worry about me. I just want _you_ to be all right with this. It's not too late to make other arrangements for him... I'm sure Langly wouldn't mind. You know how he likes weird." Scully's voice was teasing and gentle, one small hand soothing up and down Krycek's back. 

Not for the first time today, Mulder felt his heart clench in his chest as he struggled to make sense of what he was seeing and hearing. 

"God, honey, I love you. No, I _need_ to do this, and maybe he does too. He hates _his_ Krycek, you know." 

There was a wealth of sorrow in the younger man's voice, and Mulder wanted to cringe from it; wished he could deny those words and make them not true... and realized abruptly that hate wasn't all he felt for Alex Krycek. It never had been, and looking at _this_ Alex Krycek just reinforced that. 

"Oh, shit," Mulder said involuntarily, badly startling his host and hostess, but he recovered faster than they did. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to interrupt you." Better they think he just walked in, he thought, flashing them an innocent smile. "Chinese here yet?" 

"Should be soon," Dana said, smiling back at him a little tremulously. "I think I'll go change now, myself," she added, giving Krycek a little squeeze before she released him and brushed past Mulder on her way out. Mulder watched while Krycek, now dressed similarly to him in jeans, a white tee and sneakers, went to the mudroom and let the dogs back in the house. After another flurry of attention, the dogs raced into the living room, presumably in search of Scully. Like their master, they ignored Mulder completely. He was starting to develop a complex, he decided with a silent snort. 

"Listen, Krycek... uh, Alex. I'm sorry about the way I behaved when I saw you at the office," Mulder offered quietly, relieved when Krycek turned to look at him. Still so much sadness shadowing those eyes. Why? What was the key, the fact he didn't know that would explain this man's apparently fragile emotional state where he was concerned? 

"It's okay, M- Mulder. Don't sweat it. I... uh... it's got to be hard for you, right? Dropped into a place where you know the people but you *don't* know them. I can't imagine--" 

A knock at the front door and the subsequent berserk barking of dogs put an end to whatever else Krycek might have said, and he vanished into the living room to pay off the delivery man. Mulder sat down in the same chair he'd vacated earlier, and wondered how he was going to find out what he wanted to know. 

++++++++++ 

Mulder lay in his borrowed bed and reviewed the evening. Dinner had tasted fine, although no one seemed to be very hungry. Conversation had faltered until Krycek brought up a few of the non-Consortium related X-Files to compare with what Mulder and _his_ Scully had investigated. Things went a bit more smoothly after that, and while he wouldn't call it a comfortable evening, by any stretch, it had turned out less awkward than it might have been. 

Krycek and Scully excused themselves around eleven, citing the fact that they'd gotten up very early and were tired. Mulder had no doubt about that. Krycek had never completely lost that strained, weary expression Mulder had first noticed on him at the Hoover building. Scully had encouraged Mulder to stay up as long as he liked, making sure he knew where the remote control for the television was. She told him to help himself to whatever he might want out of the kitchen, and warned him that the security system was set and that the dogs generally had the run of the house at night. 

Mulder had gone along to bed shortly afterwards, fatigued himself, although less so physically than emotionally. Too uneasy in a strange place to shut himself up in his room, he'd left the door ajar so he could keep an ear on his surroundings. He would have preferred to sleep on the sofa, but he suspected this Scully would no more approve of that than his own. His paranoia earned him a pair of furry companions, who took up residence on the floor next to his bed and demonstrated their contempt for his concerns by going promptly to sleep. 

For the first time he wondered what he was going to do if he couldn't return to his universe. Having no idea of how he got here made it impossible to form a theory on how to get back. He didn't see how he could just step into the dead Mulder's life, although if it came down to it, he supposed he wouldn't have much choice. He _was_ Mulder, after all. He spent a few minutes trying to pin down how he felt about being dead in this universe, and finally decided he was too shocked by everything else to feel one way or the other about it. 

He was wondering if it would be possible to assume a new identity altogether when he became aware of faint noises from down the hall. Noises he recognized all too well, given his usual choice of video entertainment, although it was equally apparent an effort was being made to keep things quiet. Surprisingly, the soft sounds of shared passion made him smile, and he drifted off, reassured. 

Much later in the night, he awakened to hoarse shouting interspersed with another voice in pleading. Adrenaline pumping, it took him a moment to remember where he was and what was going on, and another moment to determine that what he was hearing was apparently Krycek having a nightmare and Scully trying to wake him. Mulder yanked on a pair of sweats and started for their door, absently ordering the dogs to stay. 

The muffled words became all too clear as he got closer. 

"No, Fox! God, no! Stop! Jesus, no! Don't go out there! No! _No_! FOX, NOOO!" The words deteriorated into agonized wailing, and as Mulder pushed open the door he could hear Scully begging, "Alex, wake up, please... God, _please_ , let him _wake up_! Alex!" 

Krycek was half-sitting in the bed, sheet tangled around his hips, struggling weakly against Scully's attempts to shake him awake. His eyes were open but in the dim light from the bedside lamp, Mulder could tell he saw nothing of his surroundings, his pupils blown wide. He was ashen pale and sweating, mouth still open on what were now soundless screams. Ignoring the fact that neither was dressed, Mulder laid his hand on Scully's back. 

"Can I help?" 

"I can't wake him. If you could get in on his other side and hold him," she suggested, weeping. "Talk to him. Maybe the sound of your voice--" 

Mulder did what Scully wanted without hesitation, curling his arms around Krycek's chilled damp shoulders and speaking into his ear. 

"Alex, it's okay. You need to calm down now. Everything is all right, we're right here with you," Mulder reassured in a low monotone. Some of the pieces finally fell into place when Krycek relaxed, turned into Mulder's chest, and wrapped Mulder up in a tight embrace. 

"My Fox," he murmured huskily, almost instantly sound asleep. 

Mulder gaped at Scully. She wiped her wet face with her hands before she tried a watery smile. 

"I guess we need to talk, huh," she whispered, her lips trembling. 

Mulder nodded, wondering what _his_ face looked like. 

"Give him a few more minutes, if you can, and I'll answer any question you have... just... give him this, please." She started crying again, huge tears rolling silently out of those cerulean eyes, and Mulder felt his throat close up in response. He nodded again, and Scully got out of the bed, unselfconsciously pulling on the sweats and tee shirt she'd worn earlier. 

"Scully--" 

"I'll be in the kitchen, Mulder." 

She leaned over and brushed Krycek's hair off his forehead in a gesture so tender Mulder had to close his eyes or risk his own tears, and when he opened them, Scully was gone. He held Krycek for another quarter hour or so, desperately trying not to acknowledge how _good_ the man felt in his arms- and definitely ignoring Krycek's nudity -before he gently slid free of Krycek's grasp and eased the sleeping man onto the pillows. 

He edged off the bed and pulled the sheet up to cover those muscular shoulders. Some inexplicable impulse made him bend down and plant a kiss on Krycek's cheek, in a mirror image of an action _his_ Krycek had once taken. When Mulder was sure Krycek wasn't going to awaken, he left him, silently snicking the bedroom door shut and padding out into the kitchen. 

Scully was sitting at the table, cradling a picture frame in her hands. She didn't look at Mulder; she just began speaking while he sat down. 

"Have you ever been around a couple who were so much in love that it made you happy to be near them? That's the way Alex and Mulder were. They took so much joy in each other that it just poured off them and affected everybody around." 

She handed him the picture, and Mulder looked down at himself, sitting arm in arm with Alex Krycek, both appearing so much younger than mere years could account for. They were smiling at each other, faces glowing, and Mulder saw right away what Scully was talking about. Even in a two-dimensional representation, the love was plain and pure. It made his heart ache. 

"Mulder was at Quantico to give a lecture when he met Alex there. Mulder used to say it was lust at first sight that took a second glance to become love. I'd never seen him so satisfied with life, and Alex-- Alex worshipped the ground Mulder walked on. The answer to all his questions, Alex said. When Alex was approached by Spender he told Mulder everything, and they planned to take the Consortium down together, Alex from the inside and Mulder from the X-Files. 

"Mulder and I got too close to some things Spender wanted to keep hidden. Spender had us split up and arranged to have Alex placed in the X-Files. Alex had orders to discover who Mulder's sources were and subvert his investigations, but he was supposed to protect Mulder, too. Spender always had a special interest in Mulder. We discovered after Spender's death that--" 

Scully interrupted herself there with a shake of her head, and Mulder kept silent, willing to let her tell what was clearly a very painful story in whatever way she wanted. 

"Spender knew Alex and Mulder were lovers, but he thought it was a way for Alex to control Mulder, and they were very careful to let Spender think Alex was loyal to him. Spender became impatient, though, because Alex wasn't reining Mulder in far enough to satisfy him. He had us all under surveillance... you know, we didn't realize _then_ how extensive his surveillance could be. Spender presented himself as such a caricature of an arch-enemy that we underestimated him, I think." 

Scully rubbed her face with her hands and looked at Mulder. 

"I'm sorry. I know it must seem like I'm dragging this out. This is just so hard to talk about, and so much happened. I'm afraid if I leave something out--" 

"Scully, however you want to tell it is fine. I promise not to make judgements, all right?" Mulder tried to speak to what he deduced was her chief concern, and she sighed and nodded. 

"Spender found out Mulder and I were continuing to investigate cases together, then that whole thing with Duane Barry happened. Spender seized on it as an opportunity to kill two birds with one stone, and decided he wanted Mulder and me turned over to the aliens. He later admitted his plan was to have Mulder programmed, so Mulder would stop being a threat and go over to Spender's side. Spender arranged for Duane Barry to take me hostage and ordered Alex to make sure Mulder came after me... and Alex couldn't do it. 

"Alex and Mulder had a terrible argument. Alex tried to get Mulder to stay away from Skyland Mountain. He begged Mulder. He offered to take Walter up instead to help rescue me. Anything, to keep Mulder safe, but Mulder wouldn't listen. He accused Alex of trying to betray him and me, of really working for the Consortium all along, of wanting me out of the way. Horrible, hurtful things. Mulder always had a quick temper, and he didn't like to be thwarted. He was determined to save me." 

Mulder realized Scully was crying again, and he got up and handed her a paper towel. She thanked him with a sniff. 

"Alex was there, of course, when Mulder was killed. Alex tried to disable the tram to stop him, and Mulder climbed out on top of it and fell to his death. Alex saw the whole thing. By the time he got to me he... he was just... 'missing'. Do you know what I mean? He just wasn't _there_. He got me away and turned Duane Barry over to the local police. Took me to the emergency room and never spoke a word. I just had scrapes and bruises, but when I was ready to leave Alex was gone. I called Walter to come get me. Walter picked me up and we went to Mulder's apartment to try to find him. We didn't know he was-- When we got to his place--" 

Scully looked at him, those big tears still falling, and Mulder reached out and took her hand. She seemed to take strength from that and went on. 

"We found Alex there, Walter and I. He was sitting on Mulder's couch and he had his gun barrel pressed to..." She mimed what she couldn't bring herself to say, pressing the tip of her index finger to the sweet curve under her jaw, just right of her windpipe and near where her tonsil would be. Mulder could visualize it all too easily, knowing a large caliber bullet at that area would have torn through so many vital structures on its way to the base of the brain that survival would have been impossible. 

"He said he'd been waiting for us so he could tell us what happened. He sat there and started talking in this flat, lifeless voice and told us everything. Everything I've just told you. All the details about his fight with Mulder, his Consortium orders, what would have happened to Mulder, what was probably supposed to have happened to me, his involvement with the Consortium and what he and Mulder had planned. He told us over and over again how he watched Mulder fall from that tram. How it was all his fault because he couldn't stop Mulder... how he should have shot Mulder in the leg, maybe, or maybe he should have just shot himself _then_ because at least Mulder would still be alive, even if he'd ended up in Consortium hands. He talked for almost two hours, and the whole time he talked, he held that gun to his throat." 

Scully let out a single, shuddering sob and fought for control, drawing her hand away from Mulder's and standing up. 

"It was like _both_ of them died, and Alex just hadn't quit breathing yet," she said, pitching the sodden paper towel into the wastebasket. 

"How did you stop him from pulling the trigger?" Mulder asked, and the hair rose on the back of his neck when Scully answered. 

"I sat down in front of him, on the coffee table, and pulled out my own gun and put it to my head. I told him if he pulled his trigger then I would too... yes, I did," she said to Mulder's shocked gasp. "I told him he couldn't leave me alone, that the Consortium would win and he'd be responsible. Oh, I can play dirty when I have to, Mulder. I thought you knew." 

"My God," Mulder muttered, the scene as real in his mind as if he'd been there himself. "Would you have done it?" 

"At that particular moment, yes, I would have, and Alex saw it in my face, I guess. The way he looked at me... the expression in his eyes, like a trapped animal... for a minute I didn't think he was going to put the gun down, but he finally lowered it and held it out for Walter to take. He didn't take his eyes off me until I handed Walter my gun, too. Then he got down on his knees and laid his head in my lap and promised me he'd wait until the Consortium was brought down... but not one more minute after that." 

"Obviously he changed his mind," Mulder ventured, feeling cold to his bones. He must have shivered, because Scully reached into the freezer and pulled out a bottle of Stoli, pouring him a measure in a small glass. She waited until he'd belted it back before she continued, and Mulder appreciated the cold burn of the vodka hitting his gut and warming him from the inside out. 

"It didn't happen overnight. We spent the rest of that night planning, Walter and Alex and I, but I honestly don't think Alex heard a single word. He went to Spender at dawn and told him Mulder was dead and of course, Spender knew I hadn't been abducted. I really don't know why Spender didn't kill Alex then. I think Alex was hoping he would. He told Alex to take over the X-Files, that he'd supply the necessary pressure to make it happen. Alex kept Walter and me updated, investigated the cases Spender told him to, pretended to drop the ones Spender wanted him to drop. All the while Alex was gathering information on the Consortium. He took some terrible chances. For over a year, he was living with a death wish, and he didn't care. He was... grieving." 

"What happened?" 

"The Piper Maru," Scully remarked sourly, seeing in Mulder's face that he recognized the name. "Spender ordered Alex to Hong Kong, and he was possessed by the oilien. He took it, or rather, it took him, to an abandoned missile silo--" 

"And Spender left Alex locked up in the silo with it. He's claustrophobic now. That's why he never takes the elevators." 

"That's right," Scully said, smiling a little. "I'd forgotten the way you-- Sorry. There's no way to say that and have it sound right." 

"It's okay. I knew what you meant, I think," Mulder assured, returning that smile. "Go on, please." 

"By the time Walter and I discovered where Alex was and got him out, he'd spent ten days locked up with that thing. Ten days with no food, nothing but condensation and his own urine to drink, nearly insane with fear... but I still think of it as one of the best things that could have happened to Alex, because, to borrow a biblical expression, he received a revelation while he was in there. He found out he didn't want to die after all, and he came out furious with Spender. If I had to pick something as the turning point in our fight against the Consortium, that would be it. Alex had first-hand knowledge of what would happen to _all_ of us if the Consortium managed to keep their bargain with the aliens, and he was determined to make sure it didn't happen." 

They sat quietly for a while, and Mulder considered everything he'd been told. He wondered if it was after _his_ Krycek's possession that the man had started working with the Resistance... and he wondered if there was a chance in hell that Alex Krycek could feel one-tenth the emotion for _him_ that Scully's Alex had felt for his Fox. 

"Does he have that nightmare often? I assume he's reliving--" 

"Mulder's death, yes. He hasn't had one of those in almost two years. He usually dreams about the silo, or about-- Well. Anyway, I'm not surprised he had that one tonight. He warned me to expect it, actually, but I don't think I realized how awful that particular nightmare is for him. Thank you," she added sincerely. 

"Do you think you can sleep now, Scully?" Mulder asked gently, aware of the shadows under her eyes. 

"Do you think it's worth going back to bed?" She retorted with a wry grin. "It's almost five o'clock." 

"It's Saturday, isn't it? Hell, yeah. Live large, sleep late," he said expansively, and she giggled a little. Mulder was surprised at how good that made him feel. He still had lots of questions, not the least of which was how had she and Alex ended up together, but it was late and she was tired. And he didn't want Alex to wake up alone, which was a thought that truly startled him... and when had the man become _Alex_ and not _Krycek_? Guess if you can lie in a man's bed and hold his naked body you can use his first name, Mulder decided with an internal snicker. 

"Will he remember it in the morning?" He did ask one last thing as they left the kitchen, relieved when Scully shook her head. 

"I don't think so. He never really woke up. Good night, Mulder." 

"Night, Scully." 

+++++++++++ 

To his surprise, Mulder fell back asleep. When he awakened, he became aware of two things. Somebody was cooking breakfast; he could smell bacon frying, and he had an erection that felt like the size of the Washington Monument. 

Recalling fragments of his dreams made him groan with a curious mix of arousal and embarrassment. He'd been having sex- no, making _love_ , -with Alex Krycek, and not the Alex of this universe, either. The body in his wandering imagination had been lean and hard and scarred and minus one arm... but felt like heaven, all the same. 

He clambered painfully out of bed and gathered up some clothes, escaping across the hall and into the bathroom where he started the shower. The water warmed with gratifying speed. Mulder stood under the flow and quickly stroked himself to shattering completion, wishing he hadn't already pictured it in his mind, in glorious Technicolor and stereophonic sound. Krycek pressed against him from behind, Krycek's hand on his cock instead of his own, that husky voice in his ear ordering him to come. 

"Damn, hell, damn, shit, fuck, damn!" 

He washed himself roughly and watched the remnants of his orgasm rinse into the drain, then shampooed his hair. Got soap in his eyes and spent another five minutes cursing about that, too, all the while knowing he was really cursing at himself. He wanted to pretend he didn't understand what was happening to him, but he'd never been very good at long term self-deception. 

Being around the Alex Krycek of this universe was tearing down the internal barriers he'd placed between himself and _his_ Krycek, forcing him to face up to some cold hard facts. He'd always wanted the man on some level, and despite all the dirt they'd done each other, he wanted him still. Learning what this Alex had gone through had somehow managed to make his more human, driving Mulder to consider the idea that maybe, just maybe, his Krycek had had reasons for some of the things he'd done, too. 

Although it was probably all immaterial anyway. Chances were he'd never get a chance to find out. 

On that gloomy note, he finished his shower and dried himself off, found a new wrapped toothbrush and a disposable razor in the cabinet over the sink and made use of them, then dressed for the day. Time to follow his nose and see what- and _who_ -was cooking. 

"Good morning," Alex greeted him casually from where he was half-hidden behind a newspaper, a cup of coffee steaming at his elbow next to an empty plate. "Food's on the stove, juice in the fridge, help yourself." 

"Who cooked?" Mulder inquired as he inspected the offering on top of the stove. A small grin crept across Alex's face as he folded his newspaper, laid it aside, and met Mulder's eyes. 

"I did. Ya scared?" Alex challenged, plainly teasing, that green gaze bright and clear. 

"Nah, looks like you already ate, so it must be edible. Besides, it's hard to ruin scrambled eggs and bacon," Mulder teased back, and thoroughly enjoyed seeing that grin become a real, beautiful smile. He was relieved to find Alex in such a calm, easy-going mood. Scully must have been right, and Alex had no memory of the previous night's ordeal. 

"So where's Scully?" He asked, fixing himself a cup of coffee. Clean plates and flatware were sitting out on the counter, so he served himself a healthy portion of eggs and bacon and settled into a chair across from Alex. 

"She went to meet Missy at the donut shop by the Hoover. Missy insisted. The up side is, Dana will come home with sweets," Alex said, shrugging. 

Mulder thought about that for a minute, steadily eating what was a very good breakfast, indeed. Mulder could better understand why Skinner was so protective of his in-laws. Given the circumstances, he'd actually been very restrained. He and Melissa had to be suffering the tortures of the damned wondering what was going on and whether Alex was all right. 

"Should I expect to see Skinner sometime today, then?" He eventually asked, and Alex smirked, another expression familiar to Mulder. 

"Only if we stay home all day," Alex noted with a husky chuckle that ran straight down Mulder's spine to his groin. Oh, _not_ good. 

"Did you have something in mind?" Mulder inquired, attempting to ignore what was on _his_ mind. 

"Dana and I talked about it. We were thinking it might be a good idea to turn Langly loose on our alternate universe theory and let him see what he can find. He'd get a kick out of seeing you," Alex added, faint echoes of sorrow in his eyes. 

"Yeah, I'd like to see him, and Byers and Frohicke too." 

Alex grimaced, his face now reflecting that open grief Mulder had hoped he'd never see there again. 

"I'm sorry, M- Mulder, but in this universe, John and Melvin are dead." 

"Aw, shit," Mulder said after a stunned minute. He pushed his plate away. "What happened to them?" 

"Spender." 

Alex got up and put their dirty plates in the sink, a tacit acknowledgement of Mulder's sudden loss of appetite. He turned around and leaned back against the counter, giving Mulder a long, assessing look, as if he was deciding what to say next. 

"You should hear this, and it will be easier for Dana if you hear it while she's not here. I'm sure I don't have to tell _you_ that Spender had a gift for... creative revenge." 

Mulder made a face. 

"Unfortunately, he's not dead yet in my universe, but yeah, I know what you mean." 

"About two years ago, he made a last ditch effort to grab back some of the power he'd lost when the Colonists were driven off. He set us all up, me, Dana, Walter, Missy, the Gunmen, and Pendrell. He arranged it so the strikes would be almost simultaneous. Suicide bombs delivered by clones. He sent clones of Dana to the Gunmen's building and to Walter's townhouse, and had a clone of me placed in the X-Files office to get Dana and Pendrell. At the same time, Spender informed me he had Dana and if I ever wanted to see her again I'd better come to him right away. He intended to take me out personally, only..." 

Alex glanced at Mulder uncertainly, as if he expected Mulder to laugh at what he was about to say. Mulder was careful to keep his face arranged to reflect acceptance, although he was inwardly horrified at what Alex was saying. No wonder these people were so anti-clone. He was surprised now that they hadn't shot him on sight. 

"I got a warning from our Mulder. An actual visitation from beyond the grave. Fox always said he'd be his _own_ X-File if anything ever happened to him," Alex offered Mulder a sad smile. "He told me to go to the office right away, and not to go where Spender was supposed to be holding Dana hostage. I-- I almost didn't. I almost didn't _believe_ , but it was _Fox_ and I--" 

"You loved Fox, and you trusted him," Mulder said very gently, and Alex nodded. 

"Always. Dana told me she talked to you last night after my nightmare. I don't remember... but thank you. I guess you must have been pretty shocked. Obviously you don't have that kind of relationship with the Alex Krycek in your universe," Alex said, flushing a little. 

"Would _you_ be shocked if I told you I'm beginning to regret that?" Mulder asked with an honesty that startled them both. "Please, what happened next?" 

Alex cleared his throat and rubbed his hands over his upper arms, as if he was suddenly freezing. 

"You don't know how hard it is to talk about this... I got to the office just seconds before the bomb went off, barely in time to grab Dana and Pendrell and pull them out into the hall. We were all injured in the blast. Pendrell had a concussion and broken ribs. I had a fractured skull, and Dana... miscarried our baby. She was four months pregnant." 

"Oh, God. No." Mulder put his head down on the table and covered it with his hands. So much pain. He remembered Scully's words from yesterday. '"We've all suffered here, but Alex has done his best to protect me when he could."' 

"I'm so sorry," Mulder whispered. 

"We were supposed to get married that next week," Alex murmured in what was nearly a non sequitur, then he sucked in a deep breath, apparently holding onto his composure by his fingernails. 

"I was in a coma for a month. Fortunately, the Dana clone who went to Walter and Missy's couldn't complete its mission... it had too much of Dana in her, I guess, to kill her sister. It blew itself to bits on the street and took fourteen innocent bystanders with it. The clone that was sent to the Gunmen was more... successful. John Byers and Melvin Frohicke were killed and Ringo lost a leg. 

"While I was out of it, Walter made the case against Spender and took him into custody, but the son of a bitch still managed to avoid his trial. There was a public outcry against cloning that resulted in some new legislation... if you'd turned out to be a clone you would have been summarily executed, M- Mulder. The damage to the basement is the real reason why the office got the fancy renovation. 

"Dana and I spent the next eight months recovering and destroying every clone lab we could find. We picked Saint Patrick's Day to reschedule the wedding because John--" Alex's voice finally broke, and he spun around and leaned over the counter, his shoulders shaking. Mulder got up and went to the younger man, unashamedly crying with him. 

"God, I'm so sorry," Mulder repeated helplessly, and for the second time in the space of a few hours found himself with an armful of Krycek. They held each other and wept, the harsh, reluctant sobs of men unused to open weeping... until Mulder, who was running on pure instinct, took Alex's face in his hands and thumbed his tears away. 

"Alex." Mulder caught his breath, drowning in the fathomless depths of those wet green eyes, and unthinkingly took that mouth with his. 

* * *

If you enjoyed this story, please send feedback to Polly Bywater 


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